Legend of Azeroth: the Tale of the Nathrezim
by IratheSquire
Summary: Praised by the people of Azeroth as their Saviour, Algammon was a ironic figure of a hero in the skin of a demon. This is the tale of how he rose from a Dreadlord completely ignorant of Azeroth to a legend that brings peace to this war-torn land.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft III, Blizzard. 

Chapter 1: the Baby Nathrezim 

_The flames of the Tree of Life marked the end of the second failure of the Burning Legion in its quest to conquer the world of Azeroth. Even with cunning plans and mighty demonic soldiers, the Legion was still no match against the united army of the humans, orcs and night elves. However, Azeroth was not the only world where the Burning Legion had failed to set aflame in destruction. _

Years and years ago, it attempted to invade a world which was not created by the Titans, and was so seriously defeated that it took millennia to recover from its losses. Since then the Legion dared not to touch any worlds not created by the Titans again. Little did the dread lords and warlocks know that the result of that invasion also included a hero whose destiny would intervene with the Legion and the fate of the worlds . Here is how his story began…

Luthius smiled as his eyes surveyed what was once a base in the shadows of the clouds, satisfied with the success of the attack. Surrounding him were bloodied corpses of fallen demons and huge, gigantic rocks that littered everywhere in the battlefield. Since the battle had ended, the Flying Swords of Light, hundreds of them hovering in the mid-air and one in his hand, were no longer necessary. Luthius held up the Sword in his hand, and all of the other Swords de-materialised. He then released his weapon, yet the enormous blade, as long as its owner's height, never reached the ground. It also de-materialised as soon as Luthius opened his palm.

It had only been the second day since Luthius' God had told him about this invasion. This demonic army, who called themselves the Burning Legion, was foolish enough to launch an invasion on a world created by the Ultimate Lord, who also created the Titans, including the Lord of the Legion, Sargeras. The Almighty God had foreseen it all, and sent his two servants, Luthius and Aerye, to counter them. The two cosmo-crossers had not only the power to stop the invasion, but also the power to cross into their cosmos known as the Twisting Nether and destroy the entire Burning Legion. However, their Creator had requested them to let Sargeras live and the Nether intact, so they did. Luthius never question his God, but could not help wondering why the God of Love and Every Goodness in All Cosmos would allow such an evil to exist.

His mind fled to the moment when he and Aerye found the base of the Legion, and challenged it alone. At first, the Lord of the Legion and his minions laughed. The mocking last only shortly, ended when Luthius sent out his Flying Swords of Light flying everywhere, spilling the guts of every demon in their paths. Aerye blasted everything standing in the way of her spells. Chaos spread throughout the base, but there was nothing the demons could do. None of them could even approach the two cosmo-crossers without being either cut in halves or blown into bits. Sargeras and a couple of his lackeys tried to summon burning, rocky demons that landed from the sky like meteors, but their stony bodies were sliced through by the Swords like knives through butter and blown apart into lifeless rocks. Sargeras then realized that their power displayed was enough destroy the Legion ten times over, and ordered to retreat back into the huge red portal. After the Lord of the Legion and several demons were gone, Aerye sent a huge fireball that blew up the Demon Gate. Luthius and his swords took care of the rest.

A feminine voice broke his reverie. Luthius turned, and walked to its source. The leaves rustled as he went through a bush and came up to a girl about his age. He then froze, unable to believe what he saw.

Aerye was kneeling down amongst a sea of turned-over carts and dead demons, but not quite what one would expect in a battlefield. They were very little to start with. Then Luthius noticed their large heads and small wings and horns, and realized that these were baby demons, whose parents must be part of this invading army.

"I did not do this, Luthius," Aerye said as she looked up.

"I can't believe this…" Luthius said as he kneeled down next to Aerye to examine a baby. "These are crushing wounds…" he muttered as he pointed at the crushed chest of the baby. "They must have knocked over the carts and trampled on their babes…"

"They must be desperate to escape," said Aerye. She stood up and looked at the piles and piles of dead babies. "Poor children to die so young… what could they be thinking, to bring their children to battle?"

For a moment Luthius was puzzled. However, the mystery was solved when he looked up and noticed something at a distance.

"I think I have the answer," said Luthius as he stood up and walked away. Aerye followed.

They reached a clearing with the ground red with blood. Aerye gagged at the sight. Amongst the blood there littered small fragments of bones, some of which still had little flesh attached. In the middle of the clearing was a table, on which there lay a bloody corpse. It took a while for Aerye and Luthius to see that it was a disembowelled baby demon with his limbs ripped apart from the body. 

"Oh, my…" said Aerye. "What… what had they done to that?"

Luthius picked up a bone from the ground, examining little bit of flesh on it. He frowned in disgust. "Apparently they cannibalise on their children's flesh."

"What!" Aerye cried out. "How… how could they do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Luthius took a deep breathe. His mouth twitched in abhorrence. "This… this is unspeakable evil."

Just then, a wail broke the silence of the battlefield. They rushed back to where the carts and the crushed babies were. There, under the shadow of a tree, was a small cart. Luthius and Aerye went to investigate. Inside the cart, there lay a small baby. It was obviously a male, for it was nude. His skin was pale, but that did not hinder his beauty. Two little horns grew out of his large head, and he lay on his small, red bat-like wings. His mouth was opened wide, and small drops of tear came out of his tightly closed eyes. 

"A survivor!" said Aerye as she took him out of the cart. "It is good to at least have one alive." She hugged the baby and kissed him on his forehead. "Come on, baby. It's all right."

Just as Aerye tried in vain to stop the noise, the clouds in the sky opened a little to allow a light shone right onto them. The calm, peaceful feeling of awe flooded their hearts, and Luthius and Aerye knew that their God was calling them. The baby stopped crying at once as they went on their knees.

"Luthius, Aerye…" a voice called out from the sky.

"We are here, Lord," Luthius and Aerye replied.

"This is the baby Nathrezim I've given you, Luthius and Aerye," the Lord said gently. "His father's name Algammon, who has abandoned his child for the safety in the Twisting Nether. You shall take care of this child, as if this is your son, for I have chosen him to do great things. The future of many, including the Burning Legion and every cosmos I created, directly or indirectly, lies in his hands, and so you must train this child to be a force of good and justice."

"How can this be, Lord?" Aerye asked. "This child has a dark heritage."

"All that is tainted can be cleansed," there was a smile in His voice. "The Luthius beside you is of an even darker heritage. Yet he is now one of my most prized servants."

"It shall be done as you've told, Great Lord," said Luthius. The light disappeared and they stood up. For a moment Luthius and Aerye were silent, unable to find any word to say. In their hearts they felt that their God had given them a mission. 

It was Aerye who broke the silence. "What shall we call him, Luthius?"

Luthius scratched his head. "Well… Lord didn't tell me what he shall be named… how about we name him with the same name as his father, Algammon?"

"That will be fine," Aerye smiled. She held the baby up. "Algammon, Algammon. What do you think about us taking you home?" Algammon laughed and Aerye held him in her arms happily. "Let's go back to our pocket cosmo."

The two cosmo-crossers disappeared from the forest as they crossed back into their world.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry that this took so long… I've developed a writer's block and just got over it. Anyhow, thanks for your patience!

Chapter 2: Algammon the Dreadlord

It was morning at Luthius' pocket cosmos as the Great Light rose, shining upon the vast forests, dotted with rivers and lakes and small patches of grassland. Luthius had been a natural person when he was still mortal, and kept that personality with him when the Ultimate God granted him the powers of a cosmo-crosser. As part of the gift, the Almighty Lord gave Luthius and his wife Aerye a pocket cosmos, one that they could call as "home". It was a simple universe, consisting of only a forest that seemed to stretch forever into the horizon. However, it was already good enough for Luthius and Aerye, for they needed little else.

The light shone through the thick canopy and onto the bushy grounds. It was there Algammon the Dreadlord seek for his breakfast.

The bush rustled a little as Algammon crept through, guided by his nose and following the scent of living flesh, careful not to make any noise from his hoofs. The light brightened as the layer of leaves thinned, and the Dreadlord stopped. Slowly, he stuck his head out of the leaves and twigs, taking care not to let his long horns on his head to make too much noise from rustling leaves. His red eyes glared forwards directly at a sheep grazing with her companions at her side. Algammon's mouth curved into a smile, revealing little of his long fangs. He opened his mouth to lick his sharp teeth in hunger as he focused his mind on casting a spell on his prey. His victim dropped instantly lifelessly onto its side.

Algammon leaped from his hiding place, revealing his topless pale-white body and his long, black pants. The heart-shaped crystal, hanging onto the neck, swung left and right in front of his chest. His large, bat-like wings on his back spread out wide. The sheep, frightened scattered everywhere, leaving behind their fallen friend. The Dreadlord came up to his seemingly lifeless sheep and kneeled down. Instead of sinking his sharp teeth in the vulnerable neck, however, he put his finger onto the pulse of the sheep, which he found was still beating calmly. He then reached for the bag that he had been wearing at a side, and took out his equipment: a syringe, a short rope, a sealed bag with a plastic tube, and a pen.

He felt under the fluffy foreleg of the sheep, and pulled out a tag from the wool. "12th October, 0019" it read. That was the last time Algammon had taken the blood from the same sheep. had been half a year ago. Algammon smudged the date and wrote down a new date, "13th May, 0020". He then tied the rope tightly onto the upper part of the sheep's right foreleg. In less then a second, blue veins appeared under the white, tender skin. Algammon inserted the syringe into one of the veins with a physician's precision. Normally, that would wake the sheep, but for some reason it did not. He pulled and syringe, and the syringe was filled with blood. Then he removed the syringe, but leaving the needle behind. He quickly connected the needle with the plastic tube of the bag, and soon hot, flesh blood flowed through the tube into the bag. Not wasting any drop, Algammon aimed the needle-less syringe towards his mouth, and injected the blood into it. The taste of blood brought some pleasure, but the fact that the sheep was still alive all that time pleased him more. 

It did not take a long time before the bag was full of blood. Algammon took out a cotton and pressed it onto the needle before slowly pulling it out. He knew that very soon the sheep would wake up, thus he kept the cotton onto the small wound only for a second before fleeing, taking away all his equipment and his bag of blood. 

Not long after Algammon's departure, the sheep awoke. Puzzled, she wandered off to look for her friends.

***

The same procedure had been used for the past twenty years of the young Algammon's life, and he was glad that his foster father, Luthius, taught him that. Even being brought up under the ways of the Ultimate God, Algammon could not resist his Nathrezim biological needs. As a vampiric Dreadlord, he needed to drink blood to survive, or else perish in starvation. However, both Algammon and Luthius could not bear the thought of killing innocent living creatures to satisfy the thirst for blood. When he was young, Luthius always collected the blood for him, and Algammon often wondered how until he reached he was about fifteen, when Luthius taught him to use syringes to collect an amount of blood without killing the animal. Algammon took this a step further. By casting the sleep spell on his target, Algammon could avoid frightening the poor creature. 

Algammon settled himself at the foot of a tree, and pulled the tube away from the bag. Warm, red blood began to flow out of the small opening. Instantly, he held the bag to his mouth, and began to suck his breakfast from it. He drank hungrily, not wasting a drop. He stopped drinking and leaned his head on the trunk when he had finished half the bag, letting out a small sigh of relaxation and smiled to himself. Meals were supposed to be enjoyed, and Algammon did not wish to finish it too soon. 

He was just about to finish his breakfast when he heard a familiar sound from nearby. It was a faint, metallic screeching sound. Alerted, Algammon took out a small stop from his bag, and plugged the small opening of the bag. He leapt up, his red eyes glared at the trees and bushes around him. 

A sudden rush of air was all Algammon needed, and he quickly turned to swing his left fist at his attacker up to down. There came the sound of meat smashing metal as the fist hit. As his whole body turned, Algammon swung the other fist slightly diagonally at his attacker with a loud whoosh, which forced him to retreat in an inhuman speed. This was the "Swinging Fist", a simple yet deadly move, if used properly. Had the opponent been half a second slower, Algammon would instantly knock him unconscious, if not smash his skull in.

The intruder looked like a tall, thin teenage boy, yet not exactly human. Topless, the exposed metal ribs on his chest screeched as they scratched with each other when the chest heaved up and down for each breath. His long, right arm consisted of golden metal plates bolted together at the joints, where black muscles could be seen. His right hand had long, metal fingers, at the end of which were sharp edges that could slice through the hardest metal. Half of his head and a part of his impassive face was stripped of skin, revealing the metal underneath with all the linear joints and bolts. His other half of the scalp grew short, bristly hair. His right eye was no more than a large red light in the metal socket. Large boil-like tubes bulged out of the skin here and there in his legs. 

This was no human at all. This was a Mekinese from the cosmos of Mekina. 

"You must have been practicing, Algammon. Your skills are intact," his voice was completely neutral, devoid of any emotions or feelings.

Xiburg had first come to visit his old friend Luthius when Algammon was six. The Dreadlord could still remember the time when they met. Algammon was bathing in the river when he heard loud bangs and splashes of water. When he approached the source, he found Xiburg practicing the "Iron Palm"- a move so powerful that the force of the palm itself could travel at a distance. At that time Xiburg practiced the move standing in the river bank, his palms never touched the water while the force of it splashed it to about five meters high. Since then, Algammon had been learning martial arts from the Mekinese, though even now Algammon had only managed to make small splashes with his Iron Palm. 

Algammon relaxed and stood. "I can hear you a mile away." He took out his bag of blood and opened it to drink. "You are no good for playing hide-and-seek."

Algammon smiled at his little joke, but the look on Xiburg was still impassive. "I depend on speed," he said as Algammon finished his breakfast, and they began to wander around the forest.

"So when did you find the time to see me, Xiburg?" Algammon asked. "The last time when I came to your Portal Gate you're just too busy to even speak to me."

Xiburg looked at him. "The Gate is now almost complete," he said. "It will be fully operational at fourteen hundred hours. There will be a opening ceremony then."

Since Xiburg was not a cosmo-crosser, to travel across worlds he had to rely on Portal Gates, those red, large gates that opened a silvery circle of a portal. Theoretically, one was already enough to open a gate between two cosmos. However, it took a lot of effort for a Portal Gate to force-open a portal in the destination point. By having another Portal Gate in the destination, the amount of energy needed would decrease tremendously.

Algammon waited a while before the idea sank in. "That's good…" he muttered. "That's very good, indeed. You'll have no reason not to visit me, Xiburg!"

"I've got an entire cosmos to govern," said Xiburg. "Not to mention spying on the Burning Legion."

The Burning Legion was one of the prime targets of the Mekinese spies, and Xiburg obtained intelligence from the Twisting Nether. However, the Nathrezim, one of the soldiers of the Legion, was also the prime interest of Algammon. Luthius once warned him, "Their culture is dark and evil, Algammon. You will not want to know what they really are." That was an answer that Algammon refused to believe, so he turned his attention to Xiburg, who told him that the Nathrezim was once a major force of good, and was willing to offer him information about the Nathrezim from time to time. From that point on, Algammon's mind was filled with his fantasies about the Nathrezim.

"Speaking of the Burning Legion…" Algammon said, his interest once again aroused. 

"The latest significant news about them is their second failure in their invasion against Azeroth." 

"They failed again?" asked Algammon thoughtlessly. "What about the Dreadlords?"

"Their leader Tichondrius was murdered by Illidan Stormrage the Demon Hunter."

"Damn," muttered Algammon. "To think that he was the most powerful of them all! No wonder why the Nathrezim lost."

Xiburg ignored his remark. "Some of the Nathrezim managed to escape back into the Twisting Nether. Others were scattered across Azeroth."

Algammon took a deep breath. "Well, thanks, Xiburg. Did you just said that the ceremony will be in the afternoon?"

"It will be held at fourteen hundred hours."

"Thanks," Algammon waved goodbye to his friend. "See you later!"

Xiburg only nodded as Algammon spread his wings and leapt into air.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the delay. There had been such a lot of work that I had hardly any time to write. Anyway, here is the first draft of the third chapter. Like always, reviews are welcome!

Chapter 3: The Portal Gate

Algammon flew over the vase canopy of the forest, his large, bat-like wings stretched out in full to take most of the winds, flapping occasionally to give more lift. Algammon had always loved flying. He liked the feel of the wind blowing on his face and being free from the ground. He practiced often, and sometimes mixed his flying strokes with attacks he learnt from Xiburg. As time passed Algammon found ways to fight in air. 

The ways of combat were at the back of his head as Algammon soared over the green sea of leaves. Had he not lived in this pocket cosmos he would have lost his orientation even high above the ground. Algammon paused for a moment, his wings flapping continuously as he floated in mid-air upright, his red eyes searched carefully to find the direction before he soared again. He finally stopped to look carefully to see if he was in the right spot, and decided to land. Flapping his wings vigorously, his body slowly descended towards the canopy, like a well coordinated diver diving slowly towards the sea, only in slow motion. The branches and leaves were of little concern to Algammon- he had landed in this way for years. Algammon finally dropped through the leaves and branches and landed his feet onto the leafy grounds.

The hut in front of Algammon was small, but still twice the height of the Dreadlord. It had a roof made of red, clay plates with a chimney to the left, and walls made of red bricks, slightly darker than the roof. The door was made of red wood with a black rusty handle. Beside the door were two windows, which were little more than mere square holes cut through the wall. There were also windows at the sides of the hut and two more at the back. It was nothing extraordinary about this hut but it had served as a home for Algammon and his foster parents for the past twenty years. The hut was small compared with the vast forest surrounding it, and Algammon lost count on how many times he could not found it from above the canopy. 

Patting his sleeveless shirt and taking away the leaves from his horns, Algammon walked towards the door and twisted the handle. Since there was no point in having a lock, the door opened easily with a small creak. Algammon stepped inside the hut, bending down so that his horns did not hit the top of the door. 

The light from the sun shining through the windows were enough for Algammon to fathom everything by sight, though there was much in the room. Under the sunlight was a simple wooden table with three chairs, two of them had been unused for some time. Ever since the beginning of the construction of the Portal Gate, Luthius and Aerye had been out there helping out. Thus for most of the time Algammon left alone to take care of himself. Algammon did not mind- he knew that the Portal Gate would be important in linking the pocket cosmos and the Mekinese cosmos. Anyway, he was old enough to learn to be independent.

Leaning up at the walls under the windows were small cupboards and shelves, made for food storage. However, Algammon did not need to feed on any food other than blood. Thus all of those shelves and cupboards were empty. Even the refrigerator at the corner was only half full with bags of red blood, kept from rotting by the cold. Algammon preferred his food to be fresh, and thus he only kept blood in the fridge for occasion midnight snacks. Food was at the back of his head, though, as he walked through one of the four doors at the back.

Algammon's room did not look much like a bedroom. In fact, it looked more like a small study room. Under the single window at the back under the sunlight was a tidy desk, placed so that it received as much of the light as possible. Though there were many books and papers on the desk, they were piled up neatly, leaving plenty of room for writing. The chair in front was adjustable and soft, very comfortable to sit on. At the sides of the room were two small bookshelves, stacked neatly with books with titles like "_The Art of War_" or "_Herodotus: the History_", all of them were brought by Luthius from a place Algammon knew only as Earth. Algammon, who read them over a dozen times already, almost knew them all by heart. Even though it was technically his bedroom, there was not a bed in sight: Algammon was used to sleep on the hard floor.

Algammon took off his bag and put it on the floor aside. Smiling to himself, Algammon's fingers tipped randomly over the ridges of books. He stopped at the title "_History of the Ancient World_", and casually pulled the book out. Since there was still a few hours to go before the ceremony, why not spend the time to read? Algammon, still smiling, settled down at the desk and opened the book. 

***

Even though it was little more than two pillars holding up a stony top, the Portal Gate stood amongst the trees, erect and proud. With its five-meter height and two-meter width, it dwarfed Xiburg, who was standing like a statue in front of it. All facing the Mekinese leader were the Mekinese soldiers, who all participated in the construction of the Portal Gate, standing in two lines at the sides in front. Unlike their leader, most of the warriors were almost completely devoid of true flesh. Their transparent rubbery veins, exposed in the opening of the metallic outer skin, with a colourless liquid coursing through them, entangled themselves around the hard, metal frame of a skeleton. Their shapes and sizes varied. Some were only the height of Xiburg's waist, while some where twice the size of their leader. 

Standing beside Xiburg were Luthius and Aerye. Although they were already more than two hundred years old, the two cosmo-crossers appeared as a couple in their late twenties. Only their eyes, blazed with experience, betrayed them of their true age. In his long, white coat with black shirt and long pants, Luthius looked just like the humble student he once was. Aerye, on the other hand, wore a red, low vest with a miniskirt tightened by a black, leathery belt. Unable to keep still, she kept pacing up and down and turning side to side as she waited impatiently. 

"Where on Earth is Algammon?" she asked finally. "I thought…"

Luthius smiled at her. "Patience, my love," he said gently. "The ceremony will not start until fourteen hours."

"I know that," Aerye replied. "But still, he should come and see. The ceremony cannot wait."

Despite its simple appearance, the Portal Gate was actually a complex machinery. It did not take much of an effort for the Mekinese warriors to build the two hollow columns and put on the hollow stony top. However, then Xiburg had to fit in the components inside the gate, and fine tone them so that they would be in working order with each other. Luthius and Aerye had witnessed some of the disastrous results when that failed, which were usually large explosions. To make matter worst, occasionally several rituals had to be performed to pray for the power that was to be sealed inside the Portal Gate, as the machinery had as much components magical in nature as those physical in nature. Though simple, they often had to be performed at a fixed time of the day. This ceremony, which would activate the gate, had to be performed at fourteen hours.

"Look there, Aerye," Luthius pointed at a distance. "There he is now."

Sure enough, the winged form of Algammon appeared from the trees, his shoulder bag swinging heavily with a corner of a book sticking out. 

"I'm sorry to be late," the Dreadlord apologised. "I've been reading so…"

"Never mind, my child," Luthius interrupted gently as the sky began to darken. "You arrived just in time."

Xiburg, making his first movement for the first time in hours, turned towards them and said, "It is time." Luthius nodded.

"Very well, then," said Luthius. "Let the ceremony begin."

Algammon, Luthius and Aerye walked away from the gate and joined the ranks of the other Mekinese warriors. The sky was completely black with clouds now, and some of them moved apart to let the sunlight shine through in a straight line, directly at the center of the Portal Gate. Xiburg kneeled down on his knees, and everyone followed suit. Xiburg bowed his head down and Algammon heard his voice muttering something he could not decipher. 

Just then, a faint outline of a circle emerged in the thin air between the columns of the Portal Gate. The circle slowly intensified in its bluish, shimmering colour as Xiburg continued his prayers. "This must be the true gate where the people walk through," thought Algammon to himself. 

Eventually, the circle began to glow brighter than the dim sunlight, its bluish colour reaching for everything around the gate. The light did not stop there. It continued to grow in intensity. Out of a sudden the colour turned red, and even Algammon, who knew nothing about magic and portal gates, realised that something was wrong.

Before he knew it, Algammon was consumed in a bright, yellow light. Then came darkness…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: the Arrival 

With its vast forests, the continent of Kalimdor looked much the same as the pocket cosmos of Luthius and Aerye. Under the evening light, the sea of greenery stretched far and wide, reaching the far limits of the dark blue sky. However, that was where the similarity ended. The foul stench of rotting filled the air. Black, foul patches of the tainted blight beneath the leaves betrayed the battles that had been raging here. In fact, nothing here had known peace ever since the Third War. After the Burning Legion was banished, the Lich King Ner'zhul furthered his ambition of world domination. Passing over the sea from the cold, frosty lands of Northrend, Ner'zhul's lackeys of Undead invaded this land of living. These foul creatures of corruption and death became a common sight, spreading their taint into the hearts of the forest as they marched towards Mount Hyjal where the Tree of Life stood. They never reached there, however, for the Kaldorei, guardians of the Ashenvale Forest, managed to time and time again defile their evil plans and snatched victory from the jaws of rotting evil. 

The cries of battle raged across the putrid air as the Kaldorei army defended their beloved home. Even with the sun setting, the Night Elves and the Undead still fought to their destruction amongst the trees and bushes. The Kaldorei were at their best when battling in the night. With their Ultravision, the Kaldorei had an upper hand against their enemies as they could see much further in darkness. Still, the Night Elves did not dare to lower their efforts. Hiding themselves behind the thick trunks, the archers rained the larger, rotting abominations with waves of deadly arrows. The huntresses threw out their sharp knifes and decapitated the rotting heads of ghouls. The druids of the talon swung their starves at the meat wagons, which instantly disintegrated after the impact. Some of the druids transformed themselves into crows, pecking the eyes of the gargoyles and frost wyrms, blinding the flying minions of death before the chimaeras burnt them to ashes. The bodies of Undead smelt foul with decay as they fell, spilling the atrocious body fluids on the brown earth. 

Fighting with her warriors on the edge of the battlefield was Alicia Hawkeye. A small, petite young girl, she fought with a surprising viciousness that could match any other of her fellow fighters. Her large, black cloak on her back did nothing to hinder her agility as her long, slender legs danced on the ghastly blight. Her wheel of blades sung through the air as she swung it into the skull of a nearby ghoul, splashing the rotten gore everywhere. Some of the stinking body fluid splashed onto her black helmet, but Alicia had no time to wipe it as she turned to cut another ghoul in half. 

A barely twenty year old Night Elf, Alicia was perhaps one of the youngest amongst her fellow Kaldorei warriors. She was even younger when High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind appointed her to be in charge of the nearby Kaldorei outpost. In such dire times of emergency, it was normal to have just about anyone to lead a base, though that did not stop many from doubting her abilities. Even Alicia doubted herself at that time. However, despite her hesitance at times, her tactical sensitivity and strategic insights had allowed her to lead her troops again and again to victory. No one had any doubts in her leadership anymore, and Arch-druid Malfurion Stormrage, who at last realized her potential, chose her to become a Warden, the greatest honor that a female Kaldorei could have. 

Alicia could see that the battle was almost finished when her large, blue eyes landed upon the Kaldorei forces mopping up the last of the Undead. Despite the previous failures, the Undead Scourge still refused to change their tactics, which was nothing more than large numbers. For numerous times, Alicia countered it easily by running around her troops, dispersing the enemy forces and destroying them one by one. Smiling, Alicia took off her helmet, revealing her lovely yet childlike face with red, burning cheeks. Her long, black tresses dropped on her shoulder as she let out a relieved sigh from her small, red lips. Her clothing and her skin were damped with sweat, and her nose winced from the odor seeping out of the cracks between her armor, mixing with the stench of body fluid. Ever since her scouts came back with news of the Undead, she had been fighting. However, even with her mana drained, and her strength ebbed, Alicia was grateful that the Undead were fought off once again. In her mind she even had high hopes that they would never return, but she knew that it was impossible.

"Madam?" a voice nearby broke her reverie. Alicia blinked her eyes once, and saw the sleek form of one of her archers standing in front of her.

"Ah… um, yes?" Alicia staggered. Even after a year of her promotion she was still not quite used to be called "madam".

"We've got ourselves…um, a prisoner," reported the archer. 

"Lead the way."

***

The body was small and humanoid, but through her archers' bodies, Alicia could see that the gigantic, leathery wings at the back. Her heart almost leapt with joy when she realized that her troops had finally captured a Dreadlord, one of those fiendish slaves of the unholy Lich King. As she passed though her archers, she could tell that some of them shared her hatred and rage. Others, however, had bafflement written on their faces, which puzzled the Warden. Dreadlords had always been one of the commanders of the Undead, and it should be of no surprise that one of them would be captured. The warden thought that she would just have a quick look at this Dreadlord before issuing the actual command of killing him. However, she found herself to be even more puzzled when she actually reached this Dreadlord.

On first sight Alicia found this Nathrezim to be particularly strange. Then she realized that the problem was in his clothing, which were normal. Far too normal, she thought, for a Dreadlord. He was wearing a backless vest, which was tucked into black shorts, pinched in with a black belt. Alicia kneeled down to feel the fabric with her fingers. It was soft and light like the clothes that the humans and high elves wore. Alicia, who was a weaver like many other Kaldorei girls, instantly noted that the material was too fine and too complex to be made by any human or elf. In fact, no one in Azeroth had this type of technology to weave such a fine and complex material. That could only mean that this Dreadlord here was not from this world.

Alicia shuddered at the thought. Could he be one of the Dreadlords from the Burning Legion, stranded in this world after the Third War? Her mind quickly recalled the time when she engaged the Dreadlord Anetheron during the battle of Mount Hyjal a couple of years ago. She remembered that he was wearing a suit of armor and triangular pants with a piece of cloth covering between the legs. If this Dreadlord here was one of those from the Burning Legion, Alicia expected him to wear armor, not this type of civilian clothes, if Dreadlords had any at all in the first place. As she looked at the unconscious face, she found something there that was very much atypical. Instead of evil and corruption, Alicia saw uprightness and a childlike innocence, as if this Nathrezim here had been shielded from any sort of evil in his life. When her hand touched the pale, smooth cheeks, Alicia felt as if she was touching a child. She could almost see the bright innocence in the closed eyes… This Dreadlord could come from anywhere BUT the Twisting Nether. 

Alicia's fingers bumped onto a golden chain on the Dreadlord's neck. She slowly pulled it, and out came a red, heart-shaped crystal that made some of her archers gasp with wonder. Alicia had seen many beautiful gems in her life, but with crude technology they were all sliced into ugly, edgy shapes. This crystal, however, was very much rounded and, surprisingly, without any signs of breakage due to the cutting process. It and his clothes left Alicia beyond doubt that this Dreadlord came from a place with very advanced technology, or had been there at least.

"We also found this beside him, madam," one of the archers handed Alicia what seemed to be a bag. It was made out of similar material as the Dreadlord's clothing. The bag had a long, thick strap attached to the sides. There was only a flap covering the opening, which had edges decorated with a row of metal teeth. Alicia opened the bag and pulled out a large, heavy book which read "_History of the Ancient World_". Resting the book on her arm, she randomly opened to the page which had the large words "Chapter 5: the Rise of Athens" at the top. Her eyes quickly scanned through the words. Wardens were amongst the very few Night Elves that were literate and Alicia could recognize most of the words. However, she only became more confused as she read on. Athens? Megara? What nonsense is this? She saw the handwritten notes written at the blank sides. Obviously somebody took these words very seriously, nonsense or not.

Alicia looked at the Dreadlord. She had long come to the conclusion that he had nothing to do with the Undead Scourge or the Burning Legion. Then what was he doing here? More importantly, what should she do now? Her brow furrowed as a familiar struggle began in her head. Already, she started the conflict with herself in her heart. On one hand, she was afraid that she would kill an innocent, even a Dreadlord, if she executed him right here. On the other hand, if she let him go, she risked to miss a chance of destroying one of Ner'zhul's highest commanders in the Undead army…

"Madam, what should we do?" another archer asked. Alicia bit her lip. She had to make a decision quickly.

"I want him alive." She ordered as she put the book back in the bag and swung the bag behind her. "Take him to the outpost with us." It would be better if she could have more time to decide. Meanwhile the Dreadlord could stay with her. 

Her archers nodded and obeyed. As she watched her troops surrounding the Dreadlord and carrying him away, Alicia let out a sigh. It had been a long day.

***

Algammon's fingers slowly curled. Then the hand relaxed again. Slowly the hand went for its owner's still aching forehead and the red eyes flicked open.

It was already at night, but in the darkness he could still make out the faint outline of metal bars. Algammon looked around and found himself to be trapped inside a metal cage. As he moved, the Dreadlord could feel himself swinging, which reminded him of being inside a cradle. His ears picked up the sound of creaking metal from above. He instantly looked up and saw that his cage, swinging in accordance with each of his movement, was hinged onto a wooden pole, which was rooted into the ground. His mind quickly raced to the thought of capture, and Algammon quickly realized that he should look at where he was and who his captors were.

His cage was small, but it was big enough for him to turn and more around without difficulty. Under the moonlight Algammon could see that he was at the edge of a grassy plain in the midst of a large forest. However, in his mind he could not recall any part of the forest he knew that looked like what he saw. 

"Strange," he thought. "I don't recognize this part of the forest."

In the shadows a couple of strange looking trees stood in the open plains, waving their two largest branches at the side of their trunks like arms. Algammon's eyes widened in bewilderment. Was that a face on the trunk of the tree? He squinted to have a better look. It was definitely a face, sculpted right in the middle of the tree trunk. Algammon never knew the Mekinese to be artistic enough to make such sculptures. If so, then it must be some other people who had sculpted the thing. However, as far as Algammon knew, no one except for his foster parents and himself lived in the pocket cosmos. That could only mean…

"So, you've finally come to," a feminine voice said. Algammon turned and saw a young woman emerge from the shadows beside the cage. Other than Aerye, Algammon never saw a woman before. However, his reason kept his wonder in check as his eyes probed around. In the darkness her skin did not reflect much light, so Algammon assumed that she was dark skinned. In her hand, Algammon could make out the faint shape of his bag. 

"Don't even think about breaking out," the girl said. "There are quite a few here who want you dead." She pointed.

Algammon, at first, did not saw anything in where she pointed. Then suddenly, from the darkness a couple of feminine figures appeared and then disappeared. Algammon gasped in surprise.

His mind was racing. He was definitely sure that he was no longer in the pocket cosmos. What was going on? A sudden realization then came into his head. That accident at the portal gate must have teleported him here. That left only one question to ask…

"Where am I?" Algammon asked. 

"This land is called Kalimdor," she replied. "But if you are referring to the world you're in, it's Azeroth." 

Algammon looked away. "I've never heard of a world called 'Azeroth'…" he began, but was interrupted by another girl running towards them.

"Madam Alicia!" she shouted. "The Undead are advancing again!"


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry about the delay… This is getting to be a habit. :P Anyway, enjoy the fic. Chapter 5: the Attack 

"The Undead are advancing again!"

Alicia instantly turned around to see an archer limping towards her, with the arm of an unconscious fellow huntress over her shoulder. The armour of the huntress was filled with cracks, and blood was oozing out from the holes between the metal plates. The archer's uniform was torn in several places, and scarring her slender body were injuries, one at her side bleeding so badly that the archer had to use her free hand to try to stop the bleeding. There were also cut wounds on her face, which was filled with panic and fear. Alicia recognized them to be members of a scouting team. 

"The Undead… the Undead are advancing!" the archer repeated. Her voice echoed across entire outpost, attracting the attention around them. "They… they are coming this way!"

Alicia flinched at those words. Despite the fact that they had been victorious in the battle that day, her troops needed time to recuperate their strengths and lick their wounds. In fact, the outpost was more deserted than usual because most of the soldiers were at the foot of the cliff at the back of the outpost, where they let the healing magics of the Moon Wells there to tend to their injuries. If the Undead chose to attack now…

"Which is strange," the Warden thought to herself. The Undead suffered even more losses in that battle. They had just been decimated. How could they recover their numbers so quickly?

The archer suddenly slipped and fell. Alicia, throwing away the Dreadlord's bag, rushed to her and caught her frail body before it hit the floor. 

"Quickly, someone take them to the Moon Wells!" Alicia ordered.

Just then, her sharp, pointed ears picked up the sound of rocks smashing onto the ground. Alicia looked up, and saw several groups of small skeletal forms circling the nearby short bulk of burning Ancient Protectors at the only opening of the dense bush surrounding the base, striking at the short trees with a frenzied speed. One of the Night Elf defense toppled and fell under the ghouls' relentless attacks. From the darkness beyond more ghouls appeared, slashing their long, sharp talons at anything Kaldorei.

"Oh no…" Alicia thought to herself. She looked around. There were only a couple of archers around: the rest were still healing themselves back with the Moon Wells. It would be almost impossible to defend the base with such little usable force. Alicia's mind instinctively thought of retreat, but her reason told her not to do so. Even if she issued an order to retreat, how far could her injured troops go? Besides, if this outpost fell, then the undead would be able to reach the heart of the Ashenvale Forest. She could never allow that, not when she was in charge. Alicia reached for her temple while her mind struggled with itself.

Meanwhile more ghouls arrived. 

***

Looking down from his cliff, the glowing red eyes of a Dreadlord stared hungrily as his first wave of ghouls struck at the Night Elf outpost at the foot of the opposite cliff. His thin, leather-like skin stretched over his skull as his lips pulled into a cruel smile. 

Just like the Nathrezim with the same name held captive at the outpost, Lord Algammon Venger of Northrend had the same sort of bat-like wings on his back and the two horns on his forehead, but the similarities ended there. Instead of wearing civies, this Algammon was wearing the traditional Dreadlord uniform: strong metallic armour for his upper torso, with two large flaps protecting his shoulders. Below the waist he wore shorts with two pieces of cloth covering his front and back. However, the largest difference between this Algammon and the captured one was the air they gave off in every breath, every action they took. While the Algammon in the Kaldorei base had an innocent, almost childlike manner, there was an evil aura rolling of this Algammon who was enjoying the sight of his minions tearing apart the Kaldorei outpost. There was no doubt about it: this Nathrezim was a symbol of everything of corruption and decay, everything that the one who Alicia captured was not.

Lord Algammon watched as his troops struck at the base wave after wave. The archers were fighting well, he mused, but he also knew that with most of their strongest troops healing at the back of the base, the Kaldorei army would not be as effective as back then in the morning. The evil demon smiled. All this was part of his plan. During the battle that morning, he personally had been supervising the building of another army in preparation for the final strike. When the new Undead Commander sent out his troops, he had already known that they would never come back. Their only existence was to wear down the enemy so that they would be too weak to put up much resistance against his attack on their base. With the vast backup resource from Northrend and expendable troops, the Undead were able to pull off such strategies of attrition. No resistance would be able to stand against this type of constant pounding.

Still smiling to himself, Lord Algammon turned around and disappeared amongst the trees and bushes. There was no need to help his minions. He knew they would win.

***

Algammon, foster son of Luthius, stared through his cage with his wide eyes, unable to believe what he saw.

Wave after wave those short, skeletal creatures tore down the large trees and wooden buildings with their long, sharp claws in blurring speeds. Wave after wave those eight-legged, spidery fiends spat out swarms of crawling insects, which crawled up the legs of the purple-skinned maiden warriors and bit and stung into the frail fresh beneath their armour. His sharp nose picked up the repugnant stench rolling off those large, fat horrors which cut into the lines of the women with their large cleavers held by three or more arms that looked as if sewn badly onto their bodies. Loud, flapping noises reached his pointed ears from above, and Algammon looked up, only to see the thin, decaying lizards with flapping wings soaring in the air, with cold, misty breathes coming out of their nostrils, freezing everything in their path. 

Yet for some strange reason these walking corpses seemed to be ignoring Algammon. One of those shorter ones stopped at the front of the cage, its icy black holes on its skull staring at the Nathrezim. For a moment, Algammon's mind instantly concentrated on the long claws on its hands, and his muscles tensed in preparation for combat. However, much to his surprise, the zombie turned around and disappeared into the chaos of battle. Puzzled, Algammon could only turn his attention to the raging war around him.

Just like their buildings, one by one the purple skin warriors were cut down and killed, the lines of defense torn apart. It was evident that the purple-skinned warriors were losing, but the young girl in the middle of the chaos and battle, who seemed to be the leader, had not even issued an order to defend yet. Algammon saw her face twisted with concentration as she parried blows and attacked the half-rotting enemies, but it was also written with hesitance and conflict. The good Dreadlord swore to God that the girl was struggling with herself about what to do. 

There could be nothing worse than a hesitant leader. That was one of the basic rules of history that Algammon learnt from his books. Whether it be a military campaign, or just a simple decision on foreign affairs, a slight hesitance would not only cost valuable time, but would very likely led to dire consequences. To Algammon, there were no greater mistakes in anything world than to be struggle with decisions. From that, Algammon concluded that this base would undoubtedly fall. Thus, he decided to make his move. 

The Dreadlord bent his knees and let his entire weight fall upon his feet. His chest heaved up and down as Algammon breathed in the way that Xiburg taught him, and he could feel the warm energy of qi flowing through his body, and concentrated into his right palm. His left leg stepped forward and, with a quick turn, his unleashed the full strength of the qi at the bars. With a loud bam, the entire front part of the cage shot forwards, killing several of the rotting monsters at it slammed into the battle.

For a while Algammon just stood there stunned, for that was the first time ever he used his Iron Palm to hit anything besides water. Although he already had some idea about the power of the Iron Palm, he never expected it to be that strong. If he had hit a person with that…

It was about then the Dreadlord realized that behind him was the forest and, once he left the cage, he would be able to slip away unnoticed by the purple skins. As Algammon's hooves landed onto the hard ground, his eyes did not take off from the battlefield, which was beginning to look less like a battlefield and more like an abattoir. The female warriors were falling back, and more of them were either slashed apart by long claws or cut in half by the large cleavers. Even now, the leader, who was now pushed towards the far side of the base, had not yet issued a single order. In his heart he felt a surge of pity for them, but in he knew that even with his skills, there was no way he could save them from a horde of this size.

Or could he? As Algammon kneeled down to pick up his bag on the ground, the thought of what the Iron Palm did to the cage lingered at the back of his mind. If he could do that to something that strong, maybe he could save some people from this carnage. His reason still rejected the idea, saying that it was too dangerous and the correct thing to do was to get out of here and live to figure out how he could get back to the pocket cosmos…

Algammon blinked and shook his head. What on Earth was he doing? Now it was his turn to hesitate like that purple-skinned leader. He reminded himself, it was due to her hesitation that led her soldiers this… He looked up, and saw that she was being surrounded.

"No," Algammon thought and shook his head. He would never allow anything, especially people, to be slaughtered like that. Not when he was there.

Algammon rushed into the chaos and into the battle.

***

In the distance, Alicia fought for her dear life as the ghouls marched towards her. She swung around, her wheel of blades carving a path of destruction as it soared a deadly arc right through several necks. Her decapitated attackers fell down onto the ground as unanimated corpses.

However, wave after wave the undead pressed on, like a endless sea of horror as they slashed and cut and bit into anything living they found in their path. Long ago the maiden warrior realized that the outpost would fall, and yet it was already too late to issue an order for retreat. Anyway, she had to protect the injured ones until the Moon Wells had healed them reasonably well enough for a evacuation.

That idea soon had to be thrown away when the Warden saw, in horror, a line of her soldiers limping from the back of the outpost away from the large, skeletal Frost Wyrms behind them. This could only mean that they were attacked from both the front and behind. How could the Scourge mass to such numbers in such a short time Alicia could not fathom. Her mind was already on the verge of overloading as it struggled to decide what to do next. If she stayed here, the maiden warrior would surely perish. However, all around her were the undead. If she just Blinked anywhere, she might still found herself amongst those walking, foul-smelling corpses. That would make little difference.

Out of the corner of her eye she suddenly caught the sight of the glimmering blade of a large cleaver, and Alicia dodged just in time so that it hit the trunk behind her. She turned and sank the sharp edge of her wheel into the side of the abomination. At least twice her size, the blobbing monster turned clumsily and tried to cut the other cleaver into her shoulder. Alicia blocked the blow with her weapon, but the vibration caused her to drop her wheel.

Alicia's eyes looked in terror at the large, rusting blade aiming at her skull.

Then everything turned into a blur. One moment she was staring at the knife; the next she found herself staring at two large, bat-like wings. For a second Alicia was shocked to see that it was a Dreadlord. Then she recognized the vest and the shorts he was wearing, though she did not see his face.

It was the Dreadlord she captured.

The abomination looked surprised, and then its eyes glowed yellow with determination. Alicia thought for a moment why the cleaver had not cut the Dreadlord's skull into half. Then she realized that the Dreadlord had blocked the fist holding the knife with the back of his hand. It looked as if he was merely holding his hand up, yet the abomination struggled to push the cleaver down. As the huge monster turned to slice the Nathrezim with the other cleaver, its new opponent flipped his hand over and slammed the palm into its chest.

Alicia looked wide-eyed as the abomination was instantly thrown backwards, crashing head along into packs of ghouls, crypt fiends and other abominations. However, that did not even slow it down. The whole thing only stopped as it crashed into the foot of a tree, splashing bones, legs and gore at the roots and onto the ground. The tree wobbled, then fell crashing down onto the horde of undead, flattening everything underneath.

The Warden was completely stunned. Never had she seen anything like this, magical or not. In fact, she doubted that there was anyone in the whole of Azeroth had the power, or the skill, to kill dozens like this with one blow. She shuddered in fear at that thought. If he was on the side of the Scourge…

Then the maiden warrior saw a pack of nearby ghouls turning around, as if suddenly realizing this new and powerful threat. Like insects they crawled, closing in to the Dreadlord like they would before an attack. Yet the Nathrezim seemed to be unaware of this as he stood as still as a statue. Alicia realized that the Dreadlord was just as stunned by what he had done as she did.

The ghouls leapt at the Nathrezim, all of them held their hands back, ready to strike with the corroded yet sharp claws at the end of the rotting fingers. As if he suddenly grasped the situation, the Dreadlord ducked down and slipped underneath his attackers, making them slashing their claws at air. Alicia's eyes never caught up with what he did, but apparently he turned around and somehow thwacked them all with his four-fingered fists, sending them flying. 

The Dreadlord turned around and helped her back onto her feet. "Are you all right?" he asked.

For a moment, Alicia was relieved to see that this Nathrezim, who was supposed to be her foe, was helping her. With his powers, she had no doubt that he would be a great help in the struggle against the Scourge. Yet, she knew that the undead army was too numerous and they would be eventually overcome if they should stay any longer. She looked around her, and found that all her troops were now scattered around, fleeing from the might of the undead.

"I am fine," Alicia replied as she picked up her wheel of blades. "Come on, let's go," she said, surprising herself with what maybe the first quick decision she made without hesitation.

The Dreadlord, however, only smiled. "Led the way."


	6. Chapter 6

Yay, the Dark Library finally accepted this chapter, and now I know that it is of good enough quality to be uploaded here… Enjoy! Chapter 6: the Aftermath 

The darkness faded as the fingers of dawning light reached beyond the hills.

As the blanket of the night lifted, the devastation done during the last battle in the Kaldorei outpost became apparent. The blackness disappeared to reveal the dark smoke that was oozing out from the small, burning stumps that were all that remained of the Night Elf Ancients. The only Kaldorei building that was left standing was the Hunters' Hall, but even that was under the constant attack of a group of meat wagons flinging dead corpses at the vital structures. One of those corrupt missiles broke the supporting beams, and the last reminder of the Night Elf defense against Northrend collapsed.

All around in the forest, the ghouls and abominations were chasing the scattered elvish troops. As the night faded, so did the natural Kaldorei ability to Shadowmeld. Thus after the first glow of the sun, it became much easier for the Undead to search out for the hidden female Night Elves. Those who were not killed were bounded up and brought back to the now completely obliterated base, where they were forced to sit around the Undead Commander.

Lord Algammon Venger of Northrend smiled as more and more of the Night elves were brought before him. He paced around the captured Kaldorei, his red eyes surveying their feminine faces, which were all twisted with fright and hatred. Those closest to the Nathrezim turned away, not willing to face the evil predator that was trying to pick out his prey. At last, Algammon stopped and kneeled in front of an archer, who pushed herself backwards into her sisters in an attempt to distance herself from the Dreadlord. The Undead Commander grabbed the elf by the neck and snarled, opening his mouth and revealing his long, sharp incisors. Those he sank into the tender flesh on the neck of the archer. The Night Elf winced with pain as the blood oozed out of the wound, and she let out a muffled cry through her gagged mouth. 

The Dreadlord smiled as much as he could as he sucked the satisfying blood. To him, there was little better than to drain the red liquid of life out of a being, especially from a maiden who was struggling to get free. The nearby Kaldorei elves all reeled away from the demon as they looked at him in disgust, but Algammon did not care. In fact, he enjoyed the helplessness and anger. If there was anything more fulfilling than blood, it was this: the ability to push around people when they were unable to resist, no matter how much they wanted to. This mixed feeling of power and supremacy was always satisfying to his sick, corrupted heart.

Had he been able to, Algammon would like to drink the life out of this archer. However, he had reasons to keep the female Night Elf alive, reasons he could not afford to ignore. Thus he stopped after a minute or so, and got back onto his feet.

All around him the Undead were running around as they salvaged what they could from the remnants of what had been a Kaldorei base. The ghouls pushed over the burnt columns and dug up foundations before they heaved the wood over their shoulders, taking the plentiful but useful lumber back to the Undead base. Not afar, the necromancers carried the corpses and put them into the coffins on the meat wagons, which were designed to carry such revolting cargo for later use. 

However, some of them were specially designed to carry living cargo.

"My lord," a necromancer approached. "The meat wagons are ready."

"Good," the Undead Commander replied. He pointed to the line of elves sitting in front of him. "Take these up to the wagons. Give them the best you can, for Lord Baron would like them to be fresh and healthy when they arrive in his territory."

"Aye, milord," the necromancer acknowledged as he walked off to pass on the order.

"Milord," another ghoul walked up to the Dreadlord. "Corpses… searched… Warden… not there," he said in his husky voice. "Gone... see… abominations."

Algammon nodded, comprehending the ghoul's fragment report. "So the Warden managed to escape…" he thought to himself. He smiled. There was only one thing to do.

"Send out teams to hunt for her," he ordered. "Our victory here must be complete."

The ghoul nodded a few times quickly, almost like a cartoon character, but did not comply to the command. Algammon raised one of his bare ridges over his eyes.

"You have something to add?" the Undead Commander asked.

"Yes… milord… addition… report… more…"

***

Algammon, son of Luthius, leaned on the trunk of the nearby tree as he panted to catch his breathe. 

It had been a long time since they realized that the undead were no longer after them and stopped to have a rest. Ever since they left the carnage at the base, the good Nathrezim had been running with the purple-skinned girl, who just then told him that her name was Alicia. She, likewise, had her back leaning on the foot of another tree, her hand clutching her heaving bosom as she breathed as quickly as her lungs could.

Now with the danger passed, Algammon could have his mind pondering on himself again. He learnt that he was in a land named Kalimdor, which was situated in a world called Azeroth by its inhabitants, but that was hardly enough. He still had no in-depth knowledge about the cosmos he was in, let alone the means to leave it. The foster son of Luthius had no idea about who lived in this place, their history…

Most of all, Algammon had no idea how was he going to help theses purple-skinned people.

Now that he had interfered, Algammon knew that the way back to the pocket cosmos would have to wait, especially when he realized the full potential of his power and the dangers these people seemed to be facing. He knew little about those monsters, but it was pretty obvious to him that they were not here for any friendly diplomatic business. Algammon also knew that he would require the help of the inhabitants if he was to return home, and they, especially Alicia, would request his help. Even otherwise, Algammon would never forgive himself if he now just walked away.

His reverie broke when the maiden warrior stumped forward. Algammon rushed to her side and caught her before she fell.

"Are you alright?" he asked and stared into her black eyes. 

The woman smiled weakly. "I am fine…" her soft voice replied. "Just… slightly exhausted." Algammon let out a sigh of relief.

As the Dreadlord helped her to her feet, his sharp ears caught a rustle of leaves. He quickly turned, and five small skeletons jumped out from the bush, waving their sharp claws on their hands. Algammon gave out a small sigh as he let the warm qi flow from his abdomen to his fists. The little monsters lunged, their claws slashing, but Algammon was much faster. He side-stepped the first attack, his Swinging Fists landed on the skull, crushing through the bone. As his first opponent fell, Algammon turned around and swung his fists upwards in the upward version of the Swinging Fists, his blows crashing through ribs. The remaining two hesitated as their comrades fell, and then turned around and fled. Algammon let out a small breath and let the qi in his hands disperse throughout his body.

Alicia let out a weak smile. "After all that running, you still have the stamina to fight…"

"Well, that's the advantage of knowing how to use qi," Algammon turned and grinned. 

"Qi?" 

"Yep," Algammon nodded. "It is sort of like a life force, energy of the living…"

Alicia furrowed her brows. "I thought that Dreadlords are Undead…"

"Undead?" Algammon asked. Alicia nodded.

"That's what those guys are," she motioned her head towards the black patch of blood on the trunk. "Specifically, those were the ghouls, one type of the lackeys created by the Lich King."

"Hum… right," Algammon acknowledged. Countless novels on his shelf were about animated corpses that rose of the graves, but he knew them to be stories. Some of them were great arts of literature, but stories nevertheless. Apparently, in this cosmos, liches and ghouls were very real. 

"Well, at least I can say that I don't feel like an Undead. I breath and… feel very much alive, in fact. " Algammon's brows furrowed. He never knew that the Nathrezim were able to rise from their graves after their deaths. He would have to ask Xiburg when he met him again. Speaking of Xiburg, Algammon suddenly felt all alone; helpless in this world he was trapped in.

"Er…" Alicia opened her mouth, breaking Algammon's reverie. He realized that he had not told her his name yet.

"The name is Algammon," he replied. 

"Algammon?" Alicia asked. She turned away and muttered something under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing," Alicia turned back to him. She thought for a moment, then replied, "Just… what do you suppose we do now?"

Algammon let out a small sigh of frustration. "So she had been hesitating again…" he thought to himself. "Just like back in the outpost." He shook his head in disapproval. "How on Earth did she manage to become a leader?" He could hardly believe that there were such hesitating leaders. But then, he knew that on Earth, there were dozens opportunities lost due to hesitation…

"Well, you are the one who lives here," he shrugged. There was no need to reveal the frustration in the open. "And you are the leader of the… um, your people."

"Well, not exactly," Alicia replied. "I am only a leader of the outpost, and now that it is destroyed…"

"Then we must tell the other… outposts," Algammon interrupted, then realized that he had been rude. However, there could not be any more delays. In wars, time was life. "Tell them what happened, and see if they can help."

"Ah… yeah, right," Alicia replied. "This way."

 ***

"Are you very sure about this?" Lord Algammon Venger of Northrend asked the ghoul beside him as the nearby elves, one by one, were forced into the meat wagons. Out of habit his eyes stared coldly at the little Undead soldier, as if trying to remind it of the consequences of lying to the Commander. At the back of his head, though, the Undead Commander knew perfectly well that ghouls were the mindless soldiers of the Scourge, and would never be disloyal to him. 

The ghoul nodded again. "Seen Dreadlord… me… him powerful… killed squadron… one strike…"

Algammon narrowed his eyes. His intelligence network never informed him that there was a Dreadlord amongst the Kaldorei forces, especially one of such power. Was he a spy from Ner'zhul? Algammon discarded thought. A Dreadlord would hardly mix in with the Kaldorei. Besides, he never heard of any Nathrezim, or anyone for that matter, that could wipe out an abomination with one strike. It was very probable that this Dreadlord was one of the powerful Legion soldiers left behind after the Third War. That, though, still did not answer the question as to why he was helping those Night Elves. Out of a sudden, the demon realized that this Dreadlord was more important to him than the Warden. She would not get far. Anyway, his army was pouring into the Kalimdor lands through this gap and slaughtering male Kaldorei and capturing others.

"Interesting," the Undead Commander thought to himself, amused. "I must have this Nathrezim in my hands and see for myself."

Author's note: Many thanks to J. Kae (spelling?), who has been patiently waiting for my slow chapters


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